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She checked her phone and saw the date. Oh crap. She’d completely lost track of the day of the week with how zoned out she was yesterday. With the stress of getting to school gone, she now was feeling a different concern, mainly that fat load she had drained from her father’s balls last night and how he was standing in front of her. She quickly covered her mouth realising she had yet to wipe the dried drool and cum that was covering her lips and chin. Doing her best to mask the motion as a yawn, she sleepily replied.

“I didn't always look like this,” she continued, caressing her hand slowly down my thigh, making me shudder, and then gasp as she reached between my legs, taking my too-hard dick in her hand and gently starting to stroke. “Would it help if I gave you some context? I want you to remember me, Brian, that's the whole point! Would it help if I told you how many times I sucked this dick?” She suddenly squeezed my shaft in her hand, making me gasp. “How many times I swallowed your cum? At least twice a week for an entire year, Brian! Would you remember me then?”

The next morning, Valia stood in the garden behind her home, overgrown after a year of neglect, but still beautiful. She held her sword out in front of her, breathing deeply. Step by step, she underwent the Dance of the Ivunara, an elvish custom performed before battle, as well as for exercise. It was a war dance to ease the body’s mana flow and loosen the muscles. Each day was easier, and she felt like she almost back to her old self.